


Taxqueña

by alan713ch



Series: Waiting for the Darkness [15]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A bit of gore, Alternate Universe, Episodic Fic, Gen, Multi, a bit of icky stuff, graphic depictions of death, mexican folk tales, mexican heritage, no many pairing tags because they are mostly background, part of a series, scott mccall is a true alpha, scott's heritage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1411954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alan713ch/pseuds/alan713ch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sheriff is called to a very interesting crime scene. All the juniors of Beacon Hills High meet with the Student Counselor. Finstock prepares his team for the first lacrosse game of the season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Second episode of my alternate fourth season!
> 
> Sorry for being so late - it's been hard and there's so much to do, so many details to check, I'm making my beta work extra hours! So go thank lightningrani by reading her awesome, awesome Lydia fics. 
> 
> Usual warnings: episodic fic, builts from the whole series, better read the whole thing in order to get what's going on. 
> 
> Also, graphic depictions of death. Be warned. 
> 
> Remember you can reach me at alan713ch.tumblr.com

Marla didn't see Aurelius was in the elevator with her, distracted over the papers that she was reading. 

"Good morning, Marla."

"Oh, hey Aurelius! How's it going?"

"I'm doing well, thanks. And you?"

Talking to Aurelius was always interesting. Since he was so closed up because of his empathy - he couldn't let himself _feel_ \- his voice would always be clipped, and his tone would be too controlled. It reminded Marla of the angel dude in that TV show, but at least Aurelius knew how to behave in society. Even if he looked like a robot when doing so. 

"Not bad. Lots of work - a client from Iowa is giving us a lot of crap. Apparently he's being sued for casting a curse on some crops and he insists it wasn't him but it's really obvious he did do it. However we still don't know how they are going to build the case against him. It's a mess."

"I imagine."

"Anything fun on your side?"

"Not really. Ever since I came back from California I've had a lull. I'm surprised Ms. Florrick hasn't assigned me any more cases."

"Maybe they want you on top of your game on the ones you got right now? The partners, I mean."

"Maybe."

Marla went back to the documents on her hand. She had a witness prep at ten - and she wanted to be ready for it - she had cleared her schedule for anything before ten on purpose. 

"Excuse me, Marla, may I...? No, I shouldn't."

"What is it?"

"I wanted to ask you about the McCall boy."

"Aurelius, you know I can't - they asked specifically for a Chinese Wall to be built between you and me since they don't like Karahalios."

"I know. And I don't want to ask about his business or his affairs. But..."

"You met him, didn't you? When you were there."

"Yes."

"What did you see? Besides the whole True Alpha schtick - that's like he's a walking lighthouse, even I noticed." Everybody knew that Aurelius had the power of seeing what was not there - auras, apparitions, disturbances. Blessings. Curses. 

"I don't know - that's why I wanted to ask you about him."

"Hey, mere mortal here - no special powers or anything." Florrick, Agos and associates had hired her as a paralegal, but when she had been able to properly identify some herbs in a floral arrangement designed to get a witness to spill secrets in a trial they moved her to the supernatural department. Her mother had raised her in three different lores _and_ proved to her that monsters were real, if just so she could defend herself. She didn't regret it since it ended up getting her a huge raise, and she seldom had to deal with actual supernatural problems. As a matter of fact, the reason why Derek Hale and Scott McCall had felt more comfortable with her was that she was just human, and with a pack of werewolves where most of its members were human they liked the idea of someone who had been plunged into the supernatural rather than belong directly to it. She met with the whole pack the one time she flew to California (near the holidays, so she could stop by San Francisco and spend some time with her mother) and she had to admit they were a bunch of very likable people. The alpha in particular was probably one of the sweetest persons she had ever met, which compounded with his predator-esque body language and ability to grin made him look like a giant monstrous teenage puppy. She was almost sure the boy would loll his tongue at some point - he looked _that_ cute. 

But from the look Aurelius was giving his reflection on the metal doors he had seen something. 

"What is it? Is the boy cursed? You know I need to know this kind of stuff - I need to prepare particularly in case something happens."

"I'm not sure. The boy is _blessed_ , of that I am certain. But I don't know who blessed him."

"Fae? There's a banshee among them."

"Mara? She's just dormant. I wonder if a war is to happen, and that's why she's there."

"Mara? What kind of name is that for a fae?"

"One she doesn't answer to."

The elevator doors opened and they got out. Before splitting, Aurelius stopped and looked at her in the eye - something that he usually tended to avoid, since it allowed him to see deeper into souls.

"Sorry for startling you. It's just that the blessing, it's fascinating. It's almost like a warning - that the kid should be allowed to live."

"Well, the kid is alive."

"Yes, but I am sure that if someone goes after him, it'll probably call back whatever it was that blessed him. Or if he died."

"Well, then, whatever it is should've arrived earlier. They performed a sacrifice ritual, and he was one of the sacrifices."

"They did not!"

"They did too."

Aurelius faced showed emotion - again, something uncommon.

_Fear._

"I knew they were bound to their Sanctum, but I never thought they had sacrificed their lives in order to do so."

"They are an interesting bunch. We should finish this up later - I have to prepare for this case."

Marla waved bye to Aurelius, who stood rooted on the spot. Marla would deny it but she was sure she heard the man telling her to be careful. 

How bad could it be?

"Mrs. Lee?" Matt, her personal assistant, was waiting for her at his desk. "I'm sorry, but Mr. Agos insisted that you talked to this client right now."

"What? Why?"

"Apparently she's very wealthy and willing to move all her businesses with us. It would represent a huge bonus for the firm - he even hinted at making you partner if you managed to get her to sign with us."

"Mephistopheles should be his name, you know? Why me? I just talked to Aurelius, he said he was in a lull!"

"She asked for you, specifically."

"So she wants the human in the supernatural division of the firm? It seems to be getting me too much work lately."

"Don't be sullen, Mrs. Lee. It's good for you to have more clients."

"I know, Matt, thanks. She inside?"

Matt nodded and opened the door to her office. Inside, a beautiful woman was waiting for her, and she couldn't help but marvel at her beauty. Everything in her outfit was coordinated to make her look her best, up to the marigolds adorning her hat. She couldn't help but smile at the naivete implied: most people used marigolds because they look beautiful, when in reality they meant grief, jealousy and cruelty, and also death. She avoided them like the plague, but she couldn't deny they complimented the woman's brownish skin. 

"Good morning. How can I help you, Mrs...?"

"Sebastiana. Sebastiana is fine."


	2. The Sheriff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "On a scale of one to ten, how weird is it?" John knew he could ask that question without raising eyebrows anymore.

He had been up already, both he and Melissa, when he got the call. They had slipped out of the pile - Scott had made movements of keeping Melissa close to him but she hushed him soothingly, and they had move to their bedroom. Not that they didn't want to be in the pile, but sometimes their activities were better suited for a private room. Even if they had chuckled a couple of times that the ghost of his late wife could see them, wherever they were. 

Having received her blessing had finally opened the gates in his heart to let himself love and be loved. He found himself smiling whenever Melissa was in the same room as him, and unconsciously reaching for her whenever he could. She would smile at him - the same smile he'd always given him, but now with a hint of mischief and joy behind it, the way her eyes glinted at him. They shared meals, and he had taken the habit to pick her up from the hospital and take her to dinner - a fact that Stiles resented because it allowed him to go wherever _she_ wanted, and apparently she loved burgers and curly fries. Scott just sniggered at his best friend whenever Stiles threw one of his fits. Melissa winked at her son when it happened. 

So yeah, they had both been reading in the bed - he the news on the iPad Derek had given him with Stiles settings already preloaded so he didn't have to mess with it much, Melissa a book on forest conservation - when his cellphone rang. Frowning, he answered - the station hadn't had to call him lately.

"Stilinski."

"Sheriff?" It was one of the new deputies (well, they were always new, with the amount of killings going on), Parrish. "Sorry to call you, but we had a reporting of a man found death in Mapleton Street."

"Why did you need to call me? You could have started the procedure perfectly fine - could've asked deputy Cho if you needed help."

"It's not that we couldn't do the procedure... It's that... you need to come, Sheriff."

"On a scale of one to ten, how weird is it?" John knew he could ask that question without raising eyebrows anymore.

"I'd say pretty weird."

"I'll be there." He hung up and started after his clothes. Melissa looked at him, head tilted and brow cocked.

"Anything wrong?"

"They said there was a dead body on Mapleton Street. Apparently weird enough to warrant a call four hours before my shift begins."

Melissa closed her eyes - he knew she was asking the woods if they had seen anything. "The woods don't know anything."

"Well, shit, supernatural enough to fool them?"

"Mapleton Street is well within the city - remember that the woods are still kinda bound to the preserve."

"I know." John sighed before stepping into the shower. When he left his room, fully dressed, the kitchen was full of children getting ready to go to school and of adults making coffee. He went straight to Mel and kissed her while accepting the mug in her hands.

"Need any help?" Chris asked him over oatmeal.

"I don't know yet. And I can't just bring you around - specially if Rafael is going to be there."

"Have they called him yet?"

"No - they said they wanted me ASAP. So I'm leaving."

"Call us if you need anything."

"I'll definitely call you," he said, pointing at Mel, Chris and Derek, "but you should be at school," he said to the others. "Erica, Boyd, I want you to follow me and be on the outskirts, looking for scents or anything else that may or may not make sense. Cora, you go with Derek to the academy, pretend you are there just to help him out with something so he can talk to you and give you any info. Is that OK?" He had asked the group, but everybody looked at Scott who nodded. Erica and Boyd got in positions to run and a magpie came from the woods into the kitchen, landing on his shoulder, signaling that the woods would be looking over him as well. They all left the kitchen, dishes in the dishwasher and a sense of dread in his heart. 

Not even knowing that his house was full of magical creatures had prepared him to see what he saw. 

"Holy shit!"

"We know, chief, that's why we called you." Parrish and Cho were standing nearby, and Rafael and his entourage were already taking notes. He saw Karahalios among them, a expression on his face so dark it made the scars notorious, even under all that make up. He immediately texted Mel an "Incoming", making sure she'd be around when this body reached the morgue. 

That is, if it could make it there.

The skin was taut, marking the bones, a copper color that couldn't be natural. There was barely any sort of flesh on the body, and if it had had eyes before, it definitely didn't have any now. The few strands of hair that still clung to the skull were stiff and brittle, and the nails were yellow and long. It was in a fetal position, like it had fallen asleep on its side and then the skin had contracted so much it forced it into a ball. He could count the vertebrae, and the ribs, and could even make the shape of the hips. Remembering a particularly gruesome research project of Stiles (completely unrelated to school) he could identify the body as male, but that was the only thing they could identify. 

That and that the clothes he seemed to be wearing when whatever it is that happened to him had included a very cheap suit. 

"Who found it?"

"Dana Nicole. She was out for her morning run when she saw it. She called 911 immediately."

"Any particular reason why this happened right outside old Mrs. Josie's house?"

"We already talked to her. She didn't hear or see anything."

"Neighbors?"

"No one saw anything."

"The FBI is here why?"

"One of the agents heard Ms. Nicole's call."

"Sure they did." John moved towards Rafael and his troop, where he was trying to order something. However, he stopped when he saw him get closer. 

"Stilinski."

"McCall. Why do you think you feel to need involved?"

"I'm afraid I can't share that information with you."

"You can't?"

"No, I can not."

"Very well, in that case I'd ask you to leave this scene until my men have handled it. You will be able to access the reports later if you want."

McCall gave a small smile - like he had already gathered all the information he needed, and ordered his men out. Only Karahalios remained, and didn't speak until both John and McCall were within earshot.

"Stop it with the pissing contest, you two. Stilinski, you need to get a werewolf here ASAP."

"And why is that?" 

"Karahalios, you are working for the FBI now."

"I'm working _with_ the FBI, McCall, not for you. And you need a werewolf, Sheriff, because that? Is a mummy."

"I'm failing to see the bandages." John didn't know much about mummies, to be honest, but wanted to see where the kid was going.

"Most people associate mummies with embalming, the way the Egyptians did. That is a natural mummy. California does not have the conditions for natural mummification."

"Meaning...?"

"There was magic involved."

"Have you seen this kind of mummy before?"

"You can say that, Sheriff. Behind a glass cabinet."

"Where?"

"Mexico."

John pursed his lips, a gesture that was noted by both Karahalios and McCall. 

"You have an idea."

"As a member of the court, McCall, I have. You don't belong to the court."

"I said stop it! Get one of your mutts, now!"

"I will when it conveniences me, young man." The way the old thing pouted validated John's words. "Now, Karahalios, McCall, please leave the scene, unless you want to call in your favor?" Karahalios made a face, but walked away. McCall didn't even look back. 

John waited a bit and texted a number. Less than a minute later Boyd and Erica walked into the scene. 

"So that's him, huh? The kid that is like us." Erica looked at the direction Karahalios had left like a wolf stalking prey.

"Yes. I didn't want him near you - he may take an interest in you two."

"Thanks. How old is he, again?" 

"2500 years."

"Damn - he doesn't look a year over a thousand."

"You noticed the scars?"

"Yes," Boyd answered, "he can hide them but he can't erase them."

"I can't keep you guys here for long without looking suspicious, so be quick."

"Don't worry Sheriff, we'll go back and tell you what we find later."


	3. Allison

"Mrs. Argent? You are required to go to the counselor's office. Take your things - no need to come back for the day. Homework will be posted online."

Allison frowned at her French teacher - a new one, since Morrell died - and looked at Lydia questioningly. She raised her eyebrow, but didn't comment on it. Allison grabbed her bag and put her notebook back inside, and walked towards the counselor's office. 

They had gossiped about Mrs. Murrieta as soon as Scott had mentioned that she smelled human. Lydia in particular was awed at the sense of style the woman had, while Allison, Isaac and Stiles spent a lot of time talking about the fact that she spoke Polish. Scott told the pack how his experience had been - he found her agreeable, and much more smiley than Morrell, and that had been a plus. But she hadn't requested an appointment and couldn't think of any particular reason to meet her. So she knocked the door and opened it, poking her head.

"Mrs. Murrieta?"

"Yes? Ah, Miss Argent! Please, come in!"

Allison closed the door and sat across the woman. She was wearing a purple dress now - and Allison didn't know why she noticed that. 

"So, Miss Argent, I'm sure you are wondering why we're here. No need to worry - I'm conducting this with everyone in your class. I am interested in knowing what your plans for after high school are, since most people would be starting their college applications soon. This is just so I don't get swamped with work later."

"Oh. I... Sorry, I haven't exactly thought about that."

"And why is that, Miss Argent?"

"I... I've had a very complicated year."

The counselor put on her glasses and glanced at her file. Allison knew when she found how complicated, the way her eyebrows raised. 

"You lost both your aunt and your mother last year, within a couple months. Would you like to talk about it?"

"Not really."

The woman just looked at her, but didn't press the point.

"Mrs. Morrell marked that you were going through a hard time at the end of last Spring semester, and during last Fall's semester you had sleep problems. As I understand, your grades dropped, particularly Economics. Would you consider taking Summer School to bring it up?"

"No - I am not interested in Economics."

"What are you interested in? I know you mentioned archery in my class, but here it's only the two of us. There's no one to impress." Allison smiled at the suggestion, and Mrs. Murrieta smiled with her. Scott was right: her smile was agreeable, particularly when contrasted against Morrell's. 

"I... My family always thought I'd be going to a liberal arts school on the East Coast."

"And you'd rather not?"

"No. I'd like to stay in California."

"Studying liberal arts."

"No. I don't know."

"What do you know, Miss Argent?" Allison tried to answer, but the words stopped at the tip of her tongue. She shook her head, trying to hide the shame on the answers she wanted to give. "Let me change the question: What have you done that exhilarates you? What have you done that when you are doing it, you know you are living at your fullest?"

Allison looked at her. She wanted to tell her that she felt most alive whenever she had rescued someone: Scott, Stiles, Isaac. Even if it had almost driven her mad, the fact that she had been able to stand up and defend the town, the beacon, and the fact that she had come out - that _they_ , her pack included - victorious had made her feel complete.

"I... this is gonna sound awkward, but I've helped the police with some stuff, and while I may sound like an adrenaline junkie, I kind of liked catching the bad guy? _Helping_ catch the bad guy."

"That sounds pretty straight forward, Miss Argent. A career in law enforcement usually doesn't have that many requirements regarding the major - though linguistics, engineering, accounting and criminology do help. If you are looking to get into higher entities - say, the FBI, or the CIA, you'd have to work out your syllabus, but it's not that difficult. What is a bit more difficult is to prove to them that you are worth it."

Allison blinked at the woman.

"To be honest, I had never considered such... wow. Do you think it's possible?"

"It's called putting things in perspective, Miss Argent. Sometimes it's good to slow down in life, you know? See what's going on around you - not let it get by you on a blur. And yes, it is perfectly possible - if you put your mind to it."

"Is this the part where you give me all the pamphlets regarding security careers and send me on my way?"

"No, this is the part where I send you on your way because I don't have the pamphlets with me right now. This is what I mean with preventing my work swamping me. You are free to go, Miss Argent, unless there's anything else you want to talk about?"

"Not at the moment, no - but thanks." Allison got up and proceeded to leave the room.

"Oh, and Miss Argent. My door is always open."


	4. Melissa

"Jackie, I need a favor."

"Sure Mel, what do you need?"

"I need to be in the receiving team for the body that will come from the Sheriff's department. It's going straight to the morgue." Her boss' shoulders squared, her smile dropped and her eyes darkened, but nodded. 

It was very convenient for Melissa that her boss turned out to be aware of the supernatural because she didn't have to keep making lies to find herself in the thick of the events. 

"The ambulance just called, they'll be here in fifteen minutes. Apparently is particularly gruesome."

"That's what worries me."

"Anything we need to know?"

"I don't know yet."

"Very well. Oh, also, remember that you have a review Friday."

"Oh, I know, I am super busy this week. I had to send John to Scott's guidance counselor because I couldn't show up myself - he'll go early next week. But can you please check that next week's Friday I don't have anything?"

"Cyclones first game?"

"Scott's team captain again," Melissa smiled.

"Unless whatever shows up later is too important, we should be fine not having you around next Friday."

"Thanks." Melissa smiled. She went and gave a quick round to her patients - she only had two at the moment but steeled herself when she saw the deputies come through the doors with a black body bag on a stretcher. She was about to go to John when she saw Rafael coming in as well, and refrained herself.

'The Bird of Prey thinks it is definitely supernatural, Mother.'

'We couldn't sense anything.'

'It was too far from us.'

Melissa knew that and it was alright, she was not angry at the woods. But she still found it odd that it had happened in a place where the woods would not be able to detect it. She went to help Dr. Katz, bracing herself to whatever could be that had warranted getting John out of their bed. 

"Dear mother of god and all that's holy."

When Dr. Katz opened the bag, reddish dust came out of it, dispersing in the room and making everyone cough. Inside the bag was not a corpse, but a _mummy_ that looked at least a couple of hundred years old, if no more. The hair that remained was brittle, the teeth were yellow, and what was left of the cheap suit that it had been wearing could either hold itself pretty well, or barely hold itself together. In a very slow motion the doctor and Melissa got the body out of the bag and onto the table. They were both afraid it was going to crumble in front of them. 

"This is a very advanced stage of mummification. If it weren't for the suit I'd say they dig this body out of somewhere."

"It'd have to be somewhere south of here - deep south. The weather conditions here in all of California would not be favorable for this kind of mummification."

"No, you are right Melissa. It almost seems like an elaborate prank."

"Do you think you can gather anything from it?"

"I don't know, let's see."

The doctor proceeded as much as she could, but she gave up halfway through and called the Sheriff's department, stating that they would need an archaeologist to look at the body if they wanted to extract more information. She was not even sure she could extract the teeth to compare dental records. Also, the mummy had no identification, which didn't make sense since everything else regarding his outfit seemed complete - they even found a crumpled tie in one of the pockets. If it had been a prank, it was definitely an elaborate one. 

Melissa knew better. 

"Mel?"

"John." She went and kissed him real quick in the lips, which upset Rafael but the FBI agent went to talk to Dr. Katz. She took him to the nurse lounge - Jackie only nodded at her look. "I thought we had seen the worst."

"Don't say that, you'll jinx it."

"You think it can get any worse?"

"Karahalios identified the mummification."

"What? Of course he did."

"You're not gonna like it."

"What did he say?"

"Mexico. I texted Stiles and he already sent me a paper from Texas State where they analyze some mummies from Guana... Guanaja...?"

"Guanajuato."

"That, that at least _look_ a lot like our guy over here. Did you get anything?"

"Not really, Katz didn't want to interfere much with the body in the state it is - she's probably convincing Rafe to get an archaeologist."

"Do we want more people involved?"

"He's involved - and it's not like he'll get some random dude, he'll probably get someone in the know."

John sighed and she saw it in his face. 

"Say it."

"It's a Mexican mummy, Melissa. Do you think it is...?"

"Maybe. Probably. I don't know. Why would she?"

"Kill someone just to send a message?"

"That doesn't sound like the lore I remember. Any messages she'd have for me or for Scott, she'd just appear to us and say them. The White Girl is not shy."

"Well, then, maybe the other thing we should be expecting? The judge?"

"I don't know. I seriously don't know."

They stayed together for as long as they could, bouncing ideas and even texting some of them to their kids, but nothing came out of their thinking. Erica texted John, saying that neither she nor Boyd were able to pick _any_ scent at all, and that the rest of the pack would take their chance later. John finally had to go when the department called him, saying that there were some reporters very interested in the body outside Old Mrs. Josie's house. 

She went and did her rounds, trying to think of an answer to the mummy in the cold room. Right before the end of her shift, at three in the morning, when she was able to go inside again without raising suspicion and look at it, she found it. 

There was a necklace hidden among the ripples of the clothes. Very carefully, she dislodged it and knew to whom it belonged just by looking at it. She left immediately, commanding the woods to summon her knights - they'd tell the children in the morning, but she needed to confirm her theory immediately. 

Both Chris and John were waiting for her at the foyer of their house. Without saying a word she tossed the pendant to Chris, who caught it and looked at it. 

"Hunters."


	5. Isaac

"So she called you too?"

"Yup, wanted to check what our ideas for after college are. I already know I'm gonna be an interpreter, so I was with her for like, five minutes tops. I think these two are in for tomorrow." For the first time since Isaac remembered Louie was not talking while texting.

"I know I am. Why do you look so scared, Isaac? Oh, shit - that's dad - hey, do you guys wanna hang out at some point later when it's not school? We still need to celebrate that we made first line!" Huey's smile seemed to rival Scott's whenever he got talking about lacrosse.

"Why is dad picking us up today, again?" The Carvallos started after a black SUV and waved their byes to the pack. They had been hanging out mostly with themselves, but they were pretty friendly with the pack, and the pack had been the only ones at Beacon Hills that they talked to, so they were friendly with them. Everybody had stayed after tryouts - all the boys in the pack had made first line but Stiles, and Huey and Dewey had made it as well - because they wanted to talk to -

"Coach!" Stiles had been the one to approach him, not eliciting a good response from the look Finstock was giving them.

"What is it, boys? Wait, the girls are here too. Is this a mumbo jumbo meeting?"

"Yes? Coach, where's Greenberg?" Scott asked.

"Where's... wait, what?"

"Greenberg, Coach, Greenberg. You know, about this tall, black eyes, was in love with you until he died in the lacrosse field..."

"Stiles, keep talking and you won't even see the field this semester. I... I don't know. Greenberg!" Finstock looked around, like waiting for Greenberg to appear from thin air. Isaac bit his lip when he remembered that as a revenant, Greenberg _could_ appear out of thin air, and refrained from saying anything. "Greenberg! Richard!"

They all looked around. They had tried to look for him during the past couple of days, but had no luck. They hoped Coach could summon him. 

But the boy didn't appear. What appeared was a very _ugly_ puppy that went straight to Scott, all excited like he had found a new play partner. Obviously, his alpha obliged, squatting so he could pet him and play with him.

Danny was the one to ask if that wasn't Mrs. Murrieta's dog. It was - the owner was trying to run in her heels after the dog.

"Xolo! Xolo, don't do that again."

Isaac didn't know where he learned to speak dog, but at least it was pretty obvious to him that he was telling his mistress he'd found the best thing in the world and that thing was Scott. Maybe he was reacting to the whole True Alpha thing? Isaac tried to remember if any other animal in Beacon Hills had reacted to it, but he couldn't place anything special. Some of the dogs in the vet clinic did defer to Scott but they also feared Isaac, while this puppy seemed too excited to fear _anything_.

"I'm sorry, Mr. McCall, he's still getting used to a new city and all that. I already scheduled an appointment with the local vet so he can have a check up."

"Oh, I work there! I may see you again, little fella." The puppy seemed to understand because it went _crazy_ with excitement. Isaac was reminded of that video on Youtube where a deer eats chocolate. 

"Xolo, calm down! Come here!" Even though Mrs. Murrieta didn't change her tone something in her stance made the dog obey her immediately for he jumped into her arms. She stood up and looked straight to Finstock. "Coach, I was wondering if I could have a word with you?"

"Sure, Sebastiana. Come on in. You, out!" They all made way so Mrs. Murrieta could follow Coach and made their way to the parking lot. Until Stiles, who hadn't moved at all, made the sign that he obviously wanted to eavesdrop.

"Could you at least pretend we are not staying?" Lydia motioned him to join them, while Scott and Isaac perked their ears. "Besides, why do you want to listen in?" Stiles just pressed his finger against his lips. Isaac rolled his eyes but paid attention.

"I'm just a bit concerned - your team is formed of only juniors, and they'll be taking the SAT soon, and filling their college applications, so I want to make sure you have that in mind."

"All of them? The Carvallo brothers I've never seen them before - I thought they were freshmen!"

"They are a transfer, and they are all juniors. I know this is your varsity team, and I really want our school to win, but I need to make sure - "

"Trust me, I get'cha. College is a big deal for those who are going, and those who aren't need to sit down and evaluate. Been there, done that, saw the problems of not planning."

"Did you?"

"One of my friends had an... unfortunate situation..."

"Why are we listening to this?" Isaac asked Stiles. "They are talking about the team, about all of us being juniors. Nothing we need to listen, Stiles." Stiles' mouth moved but no sound came out, and Scott started dragging him towards the parking lot. "We still need to get more info on the hunter."

"Who got mummified." Stiles pursed his lips.

"It's so weird - that was a magical death, and _you_ didn't wail or anything." Allison told Lydia. "I would've expected you to do so."

"I don't wail for magical deaths, Allison, we established that before. I only wail for deaths related to the pack."

"Well, anything magical around here is related to us somehow."

"I know. But at least that calms me somewhat. It means it was not part of the judgement. And it means it was not Scott's godmother. It means that there is something or someone who hasn't checked in with Scott that has the power to turn people into mummies and we need to stop them."

"Has anyone noticed that we don't say, you know, what she is?" Isaac asked out loud. "Are we doing it on purpose, or is it some sort of collective subconscious thing?"

"I don't know. Mom did say that when you are talking specifically about her you need to be respectful of her, otherwise she'd smite you on the spot. That, I hope, is not true, because I don't want to be smitten because my tongue ran loose. Or Stiles'."

"Hey!"

"Stiles, let's be honest, you'd be the first one to do so." Danny argued. "I should probably go too, to the morgue, and see if the moonlight can show me anything. It's been a couple of days - it's not like deputies are hanging around anymore."

"It's not the first time we've broken into the morgue either." 

"And this is why sometimes I wonder why I hang out with you."

"You do it because you love us, Danny."

"Stiles, don't. I already have to deal with Louie."

"Huey and Dewey said that he'll give up eventually. That he is not a creeper." Lydia smiled at the boy

"They're their brothers, they'll defend him."

"Do you want us to defend your honor?" Isaac asked while getting close to Allison's car - they always left together. Stiles, Lydia and Danny on the jeep, and Scott on the bike. "I'm pretty sure we can scare him off."

"Nah. It's not my first time dealing with someone who wouldn't give up." Danny smiled at Stiles who retorted that he was attractive to gay guys. Everybody rolled their eyes and got into their cars. 

Safe inside Allison's car, Isaac started to think about his meeting with Mrs. Murrieta. He was scheduled for the end of the week, cutting his Friday classes short. Allison had told the whole pack about her own meeting and then she and Lydia had spent hours scourging the FBI and the CIA websites trying to see what would be best for her to get in either agency. Chris Argent had smiled brightly and the Sheriff had poured him a glass of Jack Daniels. They'd all been happy. But when they started to notice the counselor was calling everyone he started to panic. 

He never thought he'd make it out of high school alive, neither when he was living with his dad nor when he had turned into a werewolf. So when he finally walked into her office he was officially scared. Not even talking to everybody in the pack - including Erica, who had told him to suck it up since she was dead and therefore had no future, nor Derek, who had actually been sympathetic and told him he could do whatever, since he was entitled to the Hale family fortune as well, being a member of the McCall pack - had calmed him. 

"Yes? Mister Lahey! I was expecting you later. Did you skip class for me?"

"Well, I only would've taken half the class - no point interrupting in the middle of it."

"Most kids welcome an interruption to their classes."

"I wouldn't want to cause a ruckus."

Mrs. Murrieta looked at him, brows knitted together, like she hadn't considered him before. 

"I am pretty sure you've spoken to those who have shown up before you, so I know you know why we are here. I want to know what you'd want to pursue after your high school education so I can help you with it." She finished and looked at him, waiting for an answer. He couldn't give her one. "Mr. Lahey?"

"I don't know."

"Understandable. A lot of people find themselves outside of high school without a clue of what they want to pursue, so they take some time off. Maybe get a small job, volunteer with an association, travel the world?"

"I don't know."

"Mister Lahey, is there something bothering you?"

"I don't know."

"Mister Lahey, I will need a different answer at some point."

Isaac just looked at his hands. 

"Mister Lahey?"

"I never gave it any consideration, because honestly, I never thought I'd graduate."

"You had problems at home. Marin made notes on it. Mrs. Morrell." She answered the question in his eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know."

She just looked at him, and waited.


	6. Danny

Monday morning Danny decided to check his cork board (much more organized than Stiles' wall of investigations) and see where they were in pack businesses.

The mummy was still a mummy, was still a hunter - an Argent, and according to Mr. Argent, Allison's grandfather was still at the nursing home without much access to outside communication, so that meant he had come from the outside. They hadn't been contacted before and Mr. Argent had tried reaching to others, but they were oddly uncommunicative with him. Danny just put a red tack in the board, indicating that it was unsolved.

The Carvallos were still very much human, and they were convinced particularly after seeing Dewey puke some of the cafeteria lunch the previous Friday. They were also good assets to the lacrosse team, and Coach was pretty sure their Friday game was going to be a good one - even if it was just the first of the season. And Louie had finally accepted that he was not interested and now talked to him like he talked to the others. Breathing out some relief, he put a white tack on the board, indicating that he was good with the results he got from them.

The phone tree was ready. If anyone called the number he got during school hours it would go straight ahead to Cora's, Erica's and Boyd's cellphone, who could help at the moment without raising suspicion. If they needed help they could call any of the adults and last resort was Scott - he was definitely banging his head around some math concepts. Outside school hours, the call would go straight to everybody in the pack, and at night time it would go to Derek's - he'd been insistent on taking the night shifts, arguing that he wanted to make sure they all went to bed at an appropriate time. They all knew it was because he felt guilty for Erica and Boyd, and every other night he would stay up and talk to them. Another white tack.

Nothing on the judge front. Besides the mummy, nothing supernatural had happened, so they couldn't pinpoint it to something specific. Scott, Allison and Stiles had said that according to the Hales, it would have to be a god since the power of the Nemeton is too great, but unless it was an Egyptian god the mummy was of no help. Besides, it didn't match the ideas of Egyptian mummification, and from what Mrs. McCall had gathered, it was a natural mummy, even if naturally it didn't make sense.

Yellow tack - on going, but stumped at the moment.

On Scott's godmother they were even more stumped. He agreed with Lydia: it had to be the form of the Holy Death, the Latin American version, since it was the one more closely related to Scott and his mom’s heritage. He, Stiles and Lydia had panicked when they discovered that one of the names she used was that of Sebastienne, but after having himself and Coach look at the counselor with their abilities they concluded she was human. Her puppy was really energetic - a cute little xoloitzcuintle - but she only brought it to the lacrosse practice.

He removed the picture he had surreptitiously taken with his cellphone and placed another yellow tack. He added a red one just to mark its importance.

For a week of school, their lives had definitely gotten hectic. But at least there was only one victim.

Cora had proposed asking for help to those who had presented to the court, but Scott had been against it - it was their problem, they ought to be able to solve it themselves. Danny agreed with both - they needed to know what they were dealing with first before they asked for help, but they should not play macho and not ask for help if they need it. They did go to Amanda and asked what she knew of the lore, but she wasn't that helpful - it was, after all, a localized lore. Stiles and Lydia, and now himself, wanted to go to Los Angeles and visit the church Mrs. McCall had visited in December, but their school schedule was not cooperating and Coach had had them train all over the weekend, effectively eliminating the opportunity. Maybe next Saturday.

He left the room calling Scott. He still went to his house most nights - after a very weird 'we have to sleep together as much as we can' period in which he couldn't bring himself to leave the pack now he went back to sleep in his room, even if he had his own at the McCall manor. Lydia preferred sleeping with the pack, since she feared her grandmother. The Argents and the Stilinskis had put their respective houses on sale and had moved in permanently. According to Derek it was perfectly understandable behavior, but it made him wonder what was going to happen when they all graduated.

"Hey mom! Hey grandpa!"

He kissed his mother and grabbed a cup of coffee. Both of them smiled at him, and he sat at the table. It was one of the things he had taken to do - have breakfast with them, since he knew they worried too much about him for being in the pack.

"So, how's everything going?"

"Not bad. I'm meeting the counselor today. Nothing's wrong - she's talking to all the juniors about career choices."

"This early in the year?"

"She wants to know what we want, so she can prepare better for when she actually has to advise us."

"Wise, this woman." His grandpa smiled again. "So, Daniel, what do you have in mind for your future?"

"I don't know. I mean, yes - I know I'm going to Computer Science. I was just thinking of which schools to apply."

"You've always thought of MIT."

"Well, MIT has always been my dream, but let's be real - it'd be better if I stay in California and get in-state tuition. Berkeley, UCLA, Davis, Irvine, they all have great computer programs, and it would be a lot cheaper."

"Danny, your father and I set up a decent college fund. You can go to college anywhere."

"I'll apply to Stanford, then!"

"It's the pack, isn't it?" His grandpa whispered over the coffee.

"I... I don't know? I mean, we've wondered. I asked Derek about it, and I know Laura Hale was in college when the fire happened, but in their case, it was one, maybe two wolves gone from the pack at the time, and they could come and go - Laura was studying in Davis. I guess staying close to the territory may calm the feeling of... brokenness?"

It was a lie - they hadn't talked about it at all. They were too close knitted as a pack to start thinking about breaking it in a bit more than a year.

"Danny, as happy as you find yourself right now - and you are happy, we can see that - you need to think about yourself. I mean, I know you are part of their pack - and that still scares me, you know? You still have a future. A life. What if you meet a nice guy? Will you drag him into this?"

"I don't know. I've never considered that."

"Things you need to think about, and it may be a good thing to do now that you have to see the counselor. Now, go - I know you stop by the McCall's before school, so don't be late."

His mother smiled, but he saw the ghost of fear in her eyes. He couldn't explain it to her, how he felt with the pack - she kept remembering the old stories of the moonsingers enslaved to creatures who would use their powers. His grandpa had been more accepting, since he had dedicated himself to learn everything they had on their own lore so they could train him, but so far following his instinct had helped them enough. He finished his eggs and ran to the door.

He left the pack at the school's door and went straight to the counselor's office. He found her filing.

"Mr. Mahealani. Come on in, sit down, please."

As he did she got a manila folder out and glanced it. He got the feeling it was his record.

"Excellent, Mr. Mahealani. Second in your class."

"Lydia's first, isn't she?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No. She's way smarter than me, has participated in a lot more groups than me and besides she destroys me in math and languages. I'm only good at coding and lacrosse."

"You are modest, Mr. Mahealani."

"I'm honest."

"Not according to your records. You seem to have had a period of... rebellion?"

"Those records were sealed?" Danny panicked at the idea of his criminal past showing in his school file.

"What records? I'm talking about freshman year, when you and a Mr. Whittemore were sent to the detention for mouthing off against Mr. Harris, and you used the time to rearrange some of the school databases."

"Ah, that. It was Jackson's fault." Danny blushed. The woman in front of him smiled like they were sharing a secret.

"So, Mr. Mahealani, we are here today to talk about your future."

"Yes, I am aware."

"So," she opened her hands, "what do you see in your future?"

"Computers."

"That's a little too broad, Mr. Mahealani."

"Computer science. I see myself working for a big tech in Silicon Valley, or maybe on my own start up."

"Now that's more interesting. So are you sure you want to go to college? Some of the biggest tech start ups are actually started in garages, you must know that."

"I know. I just don't know how. I mean - I am smart, but not exactly creative. I can only play the trumpet."

"Music is a good outlet of creativity as any, Mr. Mahealani, but I am pretty sure you can covet ideas. Or surround yourself with friends brimming with them. Aren't you friends with Mr. Stilinski?"

"Oh god, we don't talk about his ideas."

"Not safe for school?"

"Not safe for anyone's mind!"

Truth be told, Danny had been thinking about something that, although it may not be good for the Apple Store, it would definitely be good for them. He wanted to digitize Allison's bestiary, making it text-based searchable instead of just a bunch of pdf files compiled altogether and, combined with some image recognition APIs basically turn their phones into monster pokedexes. That way they could save a lot of time in research - particularly keeping Stiles diatribes in check.

"You're thinking, Mr. Mahealani."

"Yeah, I am. You had the same effect on Allison."

"And on Mr. McCall, and on Mr. Lahey, and everyone else who has come and seen me. See, Mr. Mahealani, most of you are not living, but letting your lives go by. Maybe it's because you have too many tumblr posts to read, maybe is because you have too many celebrities to follow on twitter, maybe it's too many animal attacks happening in the area. But sometimes it's good to slow down and see what's going on, don't you think? Not that those things are inherently bad - I have a tumblr - but maybe, you know, you shouldn't forget about what's inside?" She said as she rapped her fist on her head. Danny couldn't help but laugh, though he did shut his mouth immediately. Instead of looking offended she laughed with him. "So, Mr. Mahealani, does this mean I need to prepare myself to give you tips on how to get into Stanford, or on how to go and become an entrepreneur?"

"Maybe both?"

Mrs. Murrieta smiled, and Danny just smiled with her. 


	7. Lydia

"So you are conducting these interviews with all of the juniors." They had noticed that during the past two weeks all of them had been called at least once. And, discounting the fact that Scott had gone first, they seemed to be called in alphabetical order.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"To get an idea on what are your future careers. That way I can give insightful advice when the time comes to formulate college applications, fill out forms for scholarships and grants, help you settle on a career path."

"Sounds too deep for a school counselor."

"I have free time. Taking care of a dog is not as hard as it seems."

Lydia pursed her lips. Prada usually was high maintenance, but the weird dog Mrs. Murrieta had brought to lacrosse practices looked like he didn't need all the accessories Prada did.

"So, Lydia Martin. Highest GPA in the school. Outstanding abilities of retention. Great dominion of languages. A particular strength in mathematics." Lydia smiled like she was being modest, like it wasn't that big of a deal. The smile didn't last long though. "Psychological trauma as a result of an animal attack in the school grounds. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Signs of possible Dissociative Personality Disorder, but they did not follow through. Hysteria."

"I thought we were discussing my career options."

"I need to know you so we can discuss things properly, Miss Martin."

"Why my weaknesses?"

"What are your strengths?"

A year ago, Lydia would've answered with a lie. That her makeup, her ability to make friends, her control on the high school social structure were her strengths. Six months ago she would've said she didn't have any, still in the wake of Peter's invasion in her head. But now, she had an answer she was proud of.

"My friends."

"Your friends?"

"My friends." She was fighting the instinct of saying _my pack_. "Allison Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Danny Mahealani. They've been there, when all of that happened, even when I actively rejected them. They saw I needed help and they gave it to me. They are my strength."

"Interesting answer, Miss Martin. From your record I would've expected a different one."

"I've grown."

"Have you?"

"Yes, I have." Lydia looked at the woman in front of her, who finally, finally understood that it was a subject she didn't feel comfortable discussing with her.

"What do you see in your future?"

"Math. I want to become a mathematician first. Get a job in Wall Street, become stupidly rich in a couple of years doing investments, set up enough funds not to worry about money again, go back for a PhD and set up a trust to favor the presence of women in STEM."

"That is a very specific plan."

"I don't do things halfway."

"I can see that."

The counselor relaxed back into her chair, a tired smile forming on her face.

"I'm sorry, Miss Martin, is there a particular reason why you are antagonizing me?"

"I am not antagonizing you." She was. All her answers had been clipped and in a manner, _rude_ , but she had always been like that with people who invaded her privacy. "This is just me not wanting to reveal any of my secrets."

"I see. Well, Miss Martin, since you seem to have all your life plotted out, then I'm afraid our meeting will be cut short. Unless you want to talk about something else?"

Lydia wanted to say no. She wanted to grab her bag and leave the room. But she couldn't deny that she wanted some sort of advice.

"I... I don't know how to say this. I... how would you prepare yourself against something you don't know? Something you know it's coming, but you don't know how it will come? How will it affect you?"

"Miss Martin, that's the question everybody asks." Lydia cocked her eyebrow. "Everybody wants to be ready at life. To know what kind of punches it will give you. The truth? Nobody is. Nobody will ever be."

"That's not what I mean. I mean, it's a good analogy, but nonetheless... I know you need to prepare for life, and have a plan and a backup and a backup for the backup. That said plan has to be flexible so in case not all the details align, you can morph it without problems. The whole 'be water' philosophy from Bruce Lee. But what when I know something that is coming, but not when, and not how, and I have no idea how it's going to hit me? I can't prepare for something I have no idea what it is, or what it will do, can I?"

Mrs. Murrieta's smile shifted into a concerned frown.

"Death." Lydia blanched. "You are afraid of death, Miss Martin - no, no, that's exactly what you described." She continued when Lydia tried to deny it - but of course that's where the counselor's mind would go. She should've seen it, she had explain it exactly like the phenomenon, even if she meant the deity. "It's totally understandable to fear death, Miss Martin, but you need to be careful. You must not let that fear control you. Waiting for death just makes your life miserable."

"You never know when it'll strike, how, and you will have wasted all the opportunities to live fully because you'll recluse yourself. Yes, I've heard that advice countless times. I'm not afraid of death - I've seen it too much to actually be scared of it. But... what I am afraid of..."

"Miss Martin, are you alright? Do you feel... threatened?"

Lydia laughed.

"I guess?"

"By what?" Death. "Miss Martin, you know you can tell me anything you want."

Lydia couldn't help but let a tear of fear glide through her face.

"I can't."

"Lydia."

Her name sounded different in the counselor's voice. Scott had told her that she was human, but for a moment she thought her an angel.

"Do not hesitate to come to me. I will not tell you that it will be alright - because I don't know what you are facing. But you don't need to face it alone. 


	8. The Sheriff

John tapped his knuckles against the door three times. 

"Come in!"

John opened the door to find what looked like a cramped desk, full of papers on top of papers on top of papers. A woman was sitting behind the desk, pouring over a black notebook, writing with what looked to be a very expensive pen. 

"Yes? How may I help you?"

"I'm John Stilinski, and this is Derek Hale. I called to set up an appointment?"

"Ah, yes. Why? The office didn't tell me."

"We are here on behalf of Melissa McCall? She couldn't come in this week and she said she wanted to resolve whatever you need about Scott as soon as possible, hoping there wouldn't be any problems. Here," he took out the legal letter and gave it to the counselor, who opened it immediately, "she authorized me and Derek to discuss anything related to Scott's academic performance."

"Please, close the door and sit down, Mr. Stilinski. Mr. Hale. Now, I do have to ask if you believe yourselves capable of answering some of my questions - I was expecting to talk to someone who is a parental figure to Scott, someone who is close to him?" John smiled and Derek chuckled. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hale, but I don't see how this is funny?"

"I'm sorry. It's just that the man in front of you is basically Scott's father in anything but name."

"Is that so, Mr. Stilinski?"

"In a fashion. My son and Scott are best friends. Have been since they were seven years old."

"Szczesny is your son?"

"Do you speak Polish?" Derek asked in the language. John turned to him with his eyebrow raised. The counselor replied affirmatively, but switched back to English for John's sake - he understood it, but it had been a while since he spoke it. Since Claudia's death. He knew Stiles had found people online to practice (yes, he had seen the youtube videos) and probably was a lot better at it than him. 

"He is. I hope he is not giving you trouble."

"So far he seems to be a good kid, great mind even if it seems to scatter easily. But we are talking about Scott. Why does Scott consider you his father figure?"

"His father divorced Mel when he was nine, and even though Scott tried to live with him for six months, it didn't work out. His father had really high standards for him, and it ended up creating more problems. Scott didn't hear from him until a couple of months ago, when Rafael had to come because of an investigation."

"An investigation?"

"He's a Special Agent for the FBI."

"Oh. Tough job."

"It is."

"So Scott has turned to you?"

"Rather than he has had to put up with me because of my son. Since Stiles - that's how he prefers to be called - tends to get _both_ of them in trouble I have to lecture both of them, the same way Mel does - acting as a surrogate mother to my son. I guess Scott started associating me with a father figure at some point. At least, I hope he does."

"John, you know he does," Derek smiled at him, "besides, you are _finally_ dating Mel."

"Excuse me, Mr. Hale, Mr. Stilinski, I'm not sure this is a conversation we should be having?" 

John coughed. "Yeah, sorry. Anyways, yes, Scott does look at me as a father figure."

"Good. I was wondering if you knew about his academic drop last year - it's not uncommon, to see interests change, particularly in teenagers, but the way Mr. Adrian Harris chronicled it seems to make it quite... abrupt. Like something happened."

John and Derek looked at each other. She was asking very good questions.

"That was me, actually." Derek spoke. "His grades dropped when I met him."

"Did they?"

"I returned to this town a year ago, in a bad place mentally and to the news that my sister had been murdered. Everybody in town feared me - I literally couldn't walk without heads turning around or whispers carrying over the wind. I met Scott and Stiles when they invaded my property, looking for Scott's inhaler. They didn't fear me, and I clung to that, looking to relate to someone, but that ended up getting them in danger since those who murdered my sister were after me as well. I helped create a bad environment for Scott - and Stiles for that matter - but I managed to stop and luckily for me, he didn't finish our relationship because that young man has been good for me."

"That's... interesting." The counselor was taking notes - in a different notebook, she had closed the black one as soon as they sat down. "Would you say that said bad influence has finished?"

"I'd hope so. I've been seeing a therapist for the past five months now, and I joined the Police Academy so I can finally have a job and stop creeping on teenagers. I volunteer at the Sheriff's station to keep myself occupied." Mrs. Murrieta kept writing in her notebook. "Yes, Scott and I are still good friends. I may even say that he looks at me as some sort of big brother figure, even if he's the one who's been a good influence on me."

"Excuse me Mrs. Murrieta, may I ask why is this important?"

"Well, I've been going through the juniors' files - since they are about to start considering their options for when they leave the school next year - and I have to admit that Scott's file is... fascinating. It seems that after said bump in his life, he picked up real fast, and turned around completely. He became really good in athletics, got extremely good grades during summer school, and last semester he was even recognized by other peers to have leadership qualities. Ms. Morrell did a small write up about a time when his mother was kidnapped?" John nodded, wondering about that - hadn't Morrell died before Mel had been kidnapped? "Where he was actually able to help the police department locating her. All the teachers here seem to agree in this turnabout, and while he may not be getting the best grades in each of their classes - that honor seems to be shared between your son and one Miss Lydia Martin - they all seem to agree that he is the one student with the most potential."

"I'll be sure to tell Mel that."

"Please do. And while I consider myself satisfied with this meeting regarding him taking my class, please let her know that I'd still like to talk to her at some point."

"Will do. Ahm, will you be doing this about most of the students?"

"Probably. Yes, I will probably ask you to come visit me again about Szczsesny - Stiles. I will go alphabetically, Scott just happened to jump ahead of the pile because of his request to take AP Calculus."

"Good. I wouldn't like it if Scott was singled out for any reason."

"Oh, no - that would be completely unethical of me. It's not like I have a personal interest in the boy, is it?"


	9. Stiles

"Am I the last one to visit you?"

"Yes, you are, Mister Stilinski." The counselor seemed amused at his question. "Why? Not liking the feeling of being last?"

"Not the only thing I've been last, but I have to admit it hadn't happened in a while."

"Why is that?"

"Scott got better and I jumped on the ride."

"You and Mr. McCall seem too close."

"I owe him my life."

"How's that so?"

"He's my rock, my moral center, everything I wish I could be and more."

"Really?"

"Well, not everything I wish I could be, but he's definitely someone who keeps me in check."

"Keeps you in check?"

"Yeah - like, when we were little, I wanted to throw explosives in the school toilets. Scott is the only reason I didn't."

"You were not afraid of punishment? Of consequences?"

"My mom was in the hospital. People pitied me and I wanted to take advantage of that."

And just like that, the whole arsenal of jokes he had prepared to charm the counselor felt hollow in his chest. He wanted to whip himself - seldom did he bring his mother in any conversation, and this time he had fallen into the hole so easily it was pathetic. 

"It seems then that Mr. McCall kept you from going to the dark side."

"Yeah, definitely. I mean, have you seen him?"

"It's true that he seems to be very likable."

"He's a ray of sunshine. Seriously, I don't know how he does it - after all we've been through."

"And what is that?"

Stiles had to stop his mouth from speaking about the Nemeton.

"Let's just say we've had a very rough year. And a very rough life."

"And you are not the only one. All the kids in your clique seem to have encountered something last year."

"Pack."

"Excuse me?"

"We go by pack. We don't like the word clique."

"A pack of dogs?"

"A pack of wolves."

Mrs. Murrieta's eyebrows rose, but then she smiled. Stiles smiled with her. 

"So, Mr. Stilinski, as much as I am enjoying this bantering, we are here for a reason."

"My future."

"Correct."

"I'm gonna be a cop. I'm gonna fill my dad's shoes and be the new Sheriff of Beacon Hills when he retires."

"You sure? You have the grades to pursue any career you want."

"Nah, I'm fine. Lydia's the one that's gonna go out onto the world and win a Fields Medal and probably revolutionize science or something like that. I'm bound here, and I'm happy to stay."

"Why is that?"

"Let's just say that I know my future, Mrs. Murrieta. And it's here."

"I'll be honest, Mr. Stilinski, from your file I was expecting a different answer. I at least expected to have a talk about two or three colleges."

"Nah - what for? I don't wanna get into debt I can't pay, and I don't want to dent my father's savings."

"That's a very mature decision. What about your friends?"

"What about them?"

"Don't you want to go with them?"

"They'll come back. At least, Scott will. I don't know about every one else, and well, we all grow up, right?"

"So mature."

"That's me."

"Is it?"

Stiles shrugged. He had given it a lot of thought before - he had wanted to go and become a criminologist, but after coming back from the dead - twice - he realized he was bound to the Nemeton and would never be able to leave it unguarded. He hoped that at least Scott could go to Davis and get his vet degree, and that Allison could go and become FBI or CIA or whatever she wanted. He'd be OK staying for both of them. 

"You are lying, Mister Stilinski. And that's because you are martyrizing yourself."

"Am I?" He tried to keep his face blank but her smile got wider. He gulped, been caught in the lie. "And how do you know that?"

"I'm very good at reading body language, Mr. Stilinski. Seldom can lie to me."

Stiles didn't know why, but he knew she was telling the truth. He let his eyes wander, avoiding her gaze. 

"What's that?"

"What? This? An address book."

Stiles didn't know why, but found it fascinating. He wanted to grab it, but she took it out of his reach and put it inside a drawer. 

"My bad, I shouldn't leave my personal items at the reach of curious hands."

Now Stiles really wanted to get that address book.

"Don't dwell on it, Mr. Stilinski, I'll make sure it's not here when I leave this room."

He'd have to get the pack on it.

"And I suggest you don't think of your friends as partners in crime, even if that's what most people think of you and Mr. McCall."

Stiles just looked at her, wondering if she was actually reading his mind, or if she was only capable of following his train of thought.

"So, back to your future. You mentioned the Police Force, which now that Beacon Hills has a local academy, you'd be able to enter immediately."

"Yes, I have the GPA, the physical stamina may be a little low but can be improved, and living here saves money in board and food. Easy peasy japanese."

"Stamina is low? I thought you said you ran with wolves?"

"It was an expression, Miss Murrieta." Stiles couldn't help but feel he was baring himself in front of this woman, which he usually didn't do - not even to Morrell. 

"What about community college? You'd remain nearby, you'd have an associate's degree, and that'd let you climb up easier when you are working, and even may let you pursue politics if you want to. Not that it is required, but at least it'll give you some flexibility."

"It's an option."

"One you hadn't considered."

"Nah, not really. But I won't say no - I mean, those are fair points."

"Mister Stilinski, stop looking at my drawer."

"Sorry."

Stiles couldn't stop looking at it, and he didn't even know why. It was just a notebook - it didn't even have an ominous leather binding, or 'Death Note' in big white letters. 

He needed to stop thinking about Scott's godmother or he would literally lose it.

"I've been a bit too distracted this week."

"Feeling the rush of classes hitting you hard?"

"Kinda. Not really. Well, yeah. Lots of stuff going on."

"Yeah, I read the papers. I'm assuming your father does not confide on you."

Stiles couldn't help but glare at her. She raised her hands in defeat.

"Go ahead, Mister Stilinski. Coach Finstock will kill me if I keep you from getting to the field for his prep tonight. Go cyclones!"

"Yeah - I'm still a benchwarmer."

"Sometimes the best game happens in the bench, Mister Stilinski."


	10. Allison

"Come on, Boyd, we are going to be late!" Erica moaned.

"Well, I'm sorry for being the only one trying not to look recognizable."

"Boyd, your family has never gone to the lacrosse matches, why would they go now?"

"What about everybody else? We did do quite a spectacular departure - people ought to notice." Boyd had finally come downstairs, dressed in baggy clothes and sunglasses that, at least to Allison, made him look ridiculous. From the way Erica laughed and Lydia pursed her lips, she was not the only one thinking that. "I don't want to raise questions."

"Honey, you are going to raise questions dressed in that, but we are late." Mrs. McCall grabbed her keys and they all started getting together. The boys were back at the school, getting ready for the game. Allison and Lydia had come back to pick up Erica, Cora and Boyd, and Mrs. McCall had just woken up from the nap she needed after her shift. The Sheriff and Derek where getting there on their own - the whole pack was going to be at the game. Everybody was excited that Scott got captaincy again, and the fact that almost all the boys were there made it a pack bonding activity. 

The field was packed, as expected. They say Louie, who waved at them - he was sitting next to a man and a woman they didn't know, his parents probably. Mrs. Murrieta could be seen on the other side of the bleachers, holding her puppy close to her chest. Finstock and the team were already on the field, with the coach yelling at Stiles about something and Scott talking to Isaac in his ears, Danny standing nearby. The Sheriff and Derek were already waiting for them, taking up the top bleacher in the East side of the field. Melissa was the first to go, making sure she'd be seated next to the Sheriff (they kissed) and then everybody took their seats (Derek did ask about Boyd's outfit, who just rolled his eyes and pretended not to hear). Allison and Lydia started to talk about the Carvallos - and who looked better in their uniforms, if Huey or Dewey, and in case of Allison, who looked hotter than Isaac (Scott, but she wouldn't tell, though she wasn't sure Lydia didn't know) until Lydia suddenly focused on the end of the bleacher. 

In a pair of faded jeans, a very expensive shirt and probably more expensive boots, Alexandros Karahalios was walking towards their bleacher. He hadn't noticed them, and in fact, didn't until he was about to sit down and couldn't leave his seat. 

"Seneca! What a surprise - come to see anyone?"

"No, Sheriff - can I call you Mr. Stilinski?" The Sheriff nodded. "But I was told that Friday night the only thing you can do around here is go to the lacrosse game and then get a shake at Minnie's, so that's what I'm doing. I don't get how Alexandros survived here - well, not that he didn't, but dear god this place is boring. Besides that thing from last week, literally nothing happens!"

Erica and Boyd were paying particular attention to him, which he noticed.

"Hello? Seneca."

"And why would I give you my name?"

"I don't know, little girl, but you've been ogling me. Don't stop, though, I like it." Boyd started growling and Karahalios looked at him. "Oh, she your girlfriend? Well, you better do something to upstage me, because right now she seems to like me."

Erica just turned and started kissing Boyd in the filthiest way possible. So filthy Melissa had to chastise them before anyone else paid attention. But she also turned to Karahalios, who did lower his head to her.

"Mrs. McCall."

"Mr. Karahalios. I hope you enjoy the game."

"I don't intend to do any more."

"Do I have your word?"

"Yes, Mrs. McCall."

Content with that, Melissa turned her attention back to the Sheriff and Derek, even if the latter two still looked at the young man. Allison too, and she couldn't help but sit in a slightly offensive manner. She didn't flat out summon her knives, but she did feel the magic of them in her fingertips. 

However, the referee blew his whistle and everybody turned to the game. 

To be honest, Allison only knew the basics of lacrosse, even if her two boyfriends had been players. During the games she had usually been distracted either trying to thwart her grandfather, or trying to kill Erica and Boyd (she still felt guilty about it, even if they kept telling her she was forgiven) so she still had a very shaky understanding of the game. Lydia, of course, was more than happy to explain what was going on - to all of them, who just listened to her. 

The game started as usual - Isaac had been on the opening position and had stolen the ball for the Cyclones, starting the chain of events that culminated in a goal. The other team tried to score against them but Danny _lazily_ stopped the shot. 

"Damn, that kid is cocky." Karahalios muttered a little bit too loud.

"Is your dick getting hard?" Erica seemed to be hell bent in antagonizing him. Karahalios just turned and looked at her. 

"Maybe."

The game continued. The other team seemed to have picked up on the Cyclones because they were able to hold control of the ball a little longer, even if they lost it eventually. At the end of the second quarter, the Cyclones were winning 3-1 and Finstock seemed to be taking all his yelling on Stiles. 

"So, Mrs. McCall, who are the new members of your court?"

"Erica, Boyd, this is Seneca Karahalios. He used to go by the name Alexandros."

"We've heard."

"Oh, so has Mrs. McCall told you about me?"

"No, not her. Danny has."

Karahalios face got dark, and Allison could see the scars again. So they were just hidden by make up, but not actually gone. She knew they didn't disappear when he had resurrected that time, but she thought they were there for choice. Maybe they were part of his own curse. He looked back at them, like he was looking for something, but since he was not able to find it he just turned back to the game. 

By the end of the third quarter, the Cyclones were winning 5-2, and mostly just trying to keep the ball out of the other team's hands. The pack didn't want to overdo it - and they needed to make sure the rest of the team still thought of them as human. Otherwise Coach would have to kick them out of the team in order not to raise suspicion. 

It seemed like a sound strategy, just to keep the ball bouncing around. It was mostly the work of the Carvallos, who would pass the ball until someone from the other team caught it, and then it was a job for everyone else to recover it. 

"This is odd."

"What is?"

"The ball. It hasn't touched the floor during this quarter."

Allison looked at the clock - suddenly twelve out of the fifteen minutes had already gone by, and what Lydia said was true. The ball hadn't touched the field. As a matter of fact, the game hadn't been stopped at all - the tackles would affect the players but not the game, the strategy seemed to work too perfect.

"Is that a problem?"

"That's not the goal of lacrosse. In lacrosse you always try to score."

Suddenly Allison noticed Stiles - he was too transfixed on the ball. She motioned to the pack - Derek and the Sheriff got up, while Erica, Cora and Boyd closed quarters against Mrs. McCall.

"The woods tell you anything, Melissa?"

"They say something is going on."

"What do you mean?" Karahalios turned to them, listening. 

"They don't know. They say something is at play right now."

"At play?" Karahalios turned to the field and clapped three times, paying attention to the sound coming out of his palms. Allison summoned her daggers and looked at Lydia, who had already closed her eyes, trying to feel for any disruptions in the life force around. "Dear Zeus..."

"What?"

"Too much magic, too much power."

"What is it?"

"I don't know."

"They are not playing lacrosse anymore." Lydia had opened her eyes and was looking intently at the field. Allison turned, and could see that _everyone_ was transfixed on the field. As a matter of fact, only them were capable of not looking at the players. She got her phone out and dialed Derek's number.

"What's going on?"

"We can't tell from here, but we can see that the game is... different. Stiles!" Allison heard some scruffing and then Stiles voice through the phone. "Something's going on, we need to stop this. This - they can't hear us. Even Coach is gone."

"What do you suggest?"

"Lydia?"

Allison turned to her friend, who got the message in her eyes. Allison knew Lydia had only wailed once as a cry of help, but they hoped she could do it again. She grabbed her hand, trying to give her some strength - and maybe some magic from the Nemeton. 

Lydia closed her eyes. Allison looked at the field, trying to gain some other information. Nothing. She felt her best friend's hand tighten. She embraced herself. 

The wail was shrill, piercing the air around them. 

And afterwards, silence. 

Allison saw the ball fall. She saw the players stop, like they were coming out of a trance. And in the middle of the field, she saw -

"The field! Look at the field!"

It had been Danielle who screamed first, followed by everybody else on the field. All of the pack and Karahalios rapidly got off the bleachers and tried to get closer, while everybody else was running away in panic. The Sheriff had already reached the center of the field and commandeered everyone away from its middle, the teams rallying together in fear - and in the case of her pack, trying to get a scent or see something with their abilities. She and Lydia stood at the edge of the field, eyes wide in horror.

In the middle of the field, an altar made of boulders had appeared. On it rested the body of a young woman, dressed in white, chest carved open. 

"What the hell?" Allison asked. She turned to Lydia, who was crying. "Lydia, what is it?"

"She has no heart."


	11. Epilogue

Alan Deaton flipped the sign on his veterinary clinic. Saturday morning he usually expected to have many patients, but he only had one - a dog by the name "Xolo" from a Sebastiana Murrieta. He didn't remember the name so it must be the first time she was bringing her pet. It wasn't surprising: the Nemeton kept attracting people to it, whether supernatural or not they felt more at peace being nearby, so it would make sense that they moved in. Besides, the school was permanently hiring new positions.

Having only one customer allowed him to let his only employee, Scott McCall, take the day off. He was sure the boy would find something to do - after all, a sacrifice ritual had occurred just the night before. He'd been there, at the game - he never missed a game since he grew to like Scott - and was completely baffled by what he had seen. In an instant, the game had changed from a typical lacrosse game to something more, and suddenly the body of a young woman had been found in the middle of the field. It was not a lore he knew, and it had scared him truly. The waters had been disturbed by a single pebble and he didn't know the shape the waves were taking. 

He wanted to help the werewolf. After all, he had ensured the Nemeton was restored when he helped the boy and his two friends finish a ritual begun by a dark druid, ensuring it was those of good heart who would protect the old tree. But since his job was to keep a balance, not to favor anyone, he had to keep himself in the lines, never intervening directly. He could move a piece here and there but not much, unless his help was specifically sought. 

However, the boy's mother now didn't trust him because of said duty. 

He wasn't even sure his clinic was the sanctuary he had built once. She had come in once and he had felt powerful magic fusing with the barriers he had in place. They were still there - he had tested them thoroughly - but he wasn't sure they would protect him against her wrath. He had kept back to the lines, and waited for them to come. They haven't, and when the Nemeton was finally restored he couldn't help but wonder if he should apologize to her. 

It wouldn't do. As long as she didn't trust him, she would be the one to reject him. 

He was in the middle of some filing when the bell above the entrance door chimed, and a gorgeous young woman came in, a black puppy in her hands. 

"Doctor Deaton?"

"The same. Mrs. Murrieta?"

"Sebastiana, please, you are not one of my students. And this is Xolo. Say hi, Xolo!" The dog barked, blue eyes intensely focused on the veterinary. 

"Please, come on in." He opened the door to the back of his clinic, where all his medical equipment was. "If you could put him on the table? Did you bring his records?"

"Yes! Here they are!" She got a folder out of her purse and gave it to him. A quick scan told him that Xolo had had perfect health so far, and that he was a well behaved Xoloitzcuintle. 

"Everything seems to be in order, Miss Sebastiana. Anything in particular?"

"Nah, just a check up. We just moved in to the area and I want to make sure he was taking it alright - the lack of smog must be helping him, he's so active!"

"Where are you from, originally?"

"South L.A."

"Well, then it is true that the air quality may have changed a bit too much for him. And how are you finding Beacon Hills?"

"Definitely interesting. I mean, with what happened last night? People are still wondering if it was massive hysteria or if the water was contaminated with something."

"More than interesting that sounds dangerous, Sebastiana."

"Well, it definitely beats being mugged. At least, it's something out of the ordinary."

"Alright. Hey, fella, let's do some playing, shall we?" Deaton proceeded with his standard check up for dogs under one year old, and the puppy seemed to enjoy the playtime thoroughly. The owner watched from afar, and Deaton couldn't help but feel something in her gaze - too intense for someone who was just looking at her dog getting checked up. However, she said nothing during the procedure, and by the time they were done, a couple hours later, Deaton declared the dog in good health and thanked the owner for her business. She, however, stayed.

"May I ask you something, doctor?"

"You may ask." The tone on her voice set his instincts on alert. It was not accusatory, but it was not the tone someone would have with their veterinary. 

"Why did you do it?"

"Why did I do what?"

She started tapping her fingers around the counter, pointedly not going behind it. So she knew what he was, and she knew about the barrier. 

The dog - he didn't look like a puppy anymore - sat still at her feet, and Deaton was sure he had not been that big - or that black - before. She smiled indulgently, like this was a game for her, something to keep her entertained. 

"Why did you fool three children into taking such a large responsibility? I mean - if your intention had been to find their parents, a simple scrying spell would've done, don't you think?"

"How do you know?"

"No, no - I'm asking the questions."

Something in the air had changed, but he couldn't tell what. The dog was impossibly still, like a statue, looking at him intently. Deaton wanted to hide from those blue eyes. 

"I didn't know if the Darach had protected the location of the Nemeton with a cloaking ritual. It was the only way to ensure nothing would get in between the spell and its target."

The dog barked. The woman smiled.

"Lie."

She kept walking back and fort, the sound of her heels echoing through the store. 

Deaton regretted sending Scott away. Whoever this person was evidently held a lot of power. He was but a mere druid, and needed rituals in order to protect himself. She had waited until she was behind his protections. She knew who he was.

"If I am lying you know the answer, then."

"To try and take away the old oak from the hands of the deranged woman." Sebastiana chuckled. "Are you stupid? They are children! They can barely stand on their legs!"

"He had all the markings of a True Alpha. Better a wolf who rises from the ranks due to pure force of will than a woman blinded by her quest of revenge."

"Then why not sacrifice yourself? You were his guardian - you took him as a protege, neglecting the old wolf in the process."

"Who are you?"

The dog barked again, and the lights in his clinic flickered. He had to blink - for a moment, he thought he saw... no. It was impossible. 

"I said I was asking the questions."

"I was but one. My sacrifice would've done nothing."

"Why not find any other three to sacrifice? Maybe weaker than the parents of those children, but enough to satisfy the tree."

"It would've helped her. She would've had all of her powers, and Scott wouldn't have been able to defeat her."

"Lie."

The dog started growling again. The lights kept flickering, and the more they did, the more Deaton was convinced that the woman had no flesh in the darkness. 

"See, Alan Deaton, you wanted to ensure the power of the Nemeton remained neutral. But instead of taking it up on your hands, you decided to give it to a child you could mold. A shame you didn't factor his family in your decision."

"Who are you?"

"Because see, a mother will always look after her child, physically, psychologically, emotionally. And you thought he'd be so afraid of the power he was gaining that he would come running to you, when instead he went to his mother. And his brother. And all of those who consist of his family. A pack you don't belong to, since you never belonged in the first place." The air got colder, the lights got dimmer, her clothes got _stranger_. "See, this is why I don't like you druids so much. You want to control everything, to be the hand that rocks the cradle. Puppeteers dictating how the people must be ruled. And yet in the back, protected by the figure of those kings you've helped crown."

Deaton had backed all the way to his cabinet where he kept his herbs. He may not be able to attack, but at least he would be able to defend himself if she decided to do so. 

"Also, you didn't factor that sacrificing _him_ would call _me_."

He stopped, looking at her. The sacrifice was meant to link the Nemeton to the children. It was not a summon, and he was certain that having the mountain ash barrier in the clinic had prevented any demon from coming closer. 

"You didn't stop to look at him. Well, you couldn't look beyond The Risen King - and who would? The fire that Melissa ignited in that boy is so great, so fierce, red like rubies in his eyes and of course you'd thought it would be a good idea to invest the king with the powers of the old oak, and have him come to you, a vizier that would guide him wherever you wanted him to be. But you were fooled. By his mother."

"What did Melissa do?"

"She wished for her son to live. Oh, not that night - a long time ago. Tell me, Alan, did you ever pay attention to the cute boy with floppy hair that tried so hard when he worked for you? Or was it until later, when you saw the gold behind his eyes that you decided to see who would he be?" Alan shook his head. It was true that he had cared for Scott since he met him - who wouldn't? The boy is so likable. But he hadn't used his abilities to look at him until he felt the werewolf in him growl. 

That's when he had decided to take care of him. To protect him. To guide him. 

"See, you should've looked a bit more carefully. That way you should've known better than to sacrifice him."

"Who are you?"

"Many names I have, and you certainly know a fair share of them. But if you wish to understand why am I here, let me tell you: I am Scott's godmother, and I neglected my duties before. No more. And if you try to manipulate my godson again, I'll assure you, you'll wish for the crow to take you instead of me."

The lights went out and for a moment, Deaton saw a skeletal figure with a robe and a scythe, looking directly into his eyes. But when he blinked, the lights were back, and the woman was holding her puppy the same way she had when she had entered the clinic. 

"Thank you so much, Doctor. We'll be back for Xolo's next check up."


End file.
